Recently I went to the launch of the latest edition of the Voiceworks magazine at SA Writer’s Centre. Voiceworks publishes art and writing by young Australians and the current issue, ‘Cell’, is the 93rd issue. The MC was the editor of Voiceworks, Kat Muscat, who told the young audience that there was not one South Australian writer included in the latest edition. For shame! Perhaps it’s because each year young Adelaideans migrate in droves to the Eastern cities and then submit stories from there?
Anyway, the main part of the launch was a series of storytellings by young Adelaide writers (they do exist!). I was very impressed by all of them, partly for their bravery in standing up and reading out their work to a bunch of strangers, but also for the quality and diversity they came out with. I was most enthralled by the story told by a young woman who had connected with a person through volunteer work at an aged care home. From what I gathered from her introduction, she had written a story based on what the older person had told her. It was about a child growing up in a northern part of Australia during WWII and how they experienced the disappearance and death of a young girl. It was remarkably atmospheric, lyrical and moving.
As I listened to the story, I was taken to this muggy place with its mangrove coast, I could hear the wild horses thundering, and I could feel the child’s curiosity and their father’s sadness at the girl’s death. The story was beautifully written and told, but it also had the ring of truth about it. It was almost like someone was speaking through the young woman.
At the moment I’m volunteering with a community organisation that links up older people with volunteers who can – if the older person wants – write their story, or a part of their story. I’ve been doing just this with another volunteer and it has been a great privilege to listen and record the details of a life, with all its adventures, mishaps, tragedies and joys. The purpose of the program isn’t to create a fictional story but more of a biography or legacy that can live on through the person’s families or local community.
I’ve realised a few things from all of this. First, that everyone has a story to tell and sometimes the most interesting or surprising tales come from the most unexpected places. Second, that listening is learning and it’s also caring. Third, that good stories are well-written (or well-spoken) and give the reader something real, something human, to latch onto.
Well, this has been a very reflective post. I wonder if any other writers have been involved in listening to older people’s stories and transcribing them? There are some incredible stories out there just waiting to be told.
The Wordy Way 